


the missing sock

by theheadgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Missing Scene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 02:23:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13113960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheadgirl/pseuds/theheadgirl
Summary: In Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Molly asks Harry if a Puddlemere United sock she found is his. Harry says he doesn't support Puddlemere. How did it get to the Burrow? Maybe if someone had thought to ask Percy ...





	the missing sock

"I'm sorry I can't accompany you tonight, it's just - " Percy sighs importantly, puffing his chest out slightly. "Mr. Crouch is asking me to take on more responsibility, and I'm going to prove I'm equal to the challenge."

Molly beams at her son, pride shining in her eyes. "Of course you will, Perce. You're such an asset to that department. Mr. Crouch is so lucky to have you."

"Molly?" Arthur says, pressing his hands to his wife's shoulders. "We need to get going. Our reservation is at seven."

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Molly steps forward and hugs Percy. "Good night, Percy. Don't work too hard."

"Yes, Mother." He nods to Arthur, who takes Molly's hand and leads her out to the front lawn. With two sharp cracks, they vanish into nothing.

Percy counts backwards, looking out at the spot where his parents vanished. Five, four, three, two, one.

Nothing. 

In the moment of solitude, Percy allows himself to roll his eyes. An asset to the department he may be, but he'd feel a hell of a lot more appreciated if Crouch could actually remember his name. 

He goes into the kitchen and fills the tea kettle, setting it on the range to start boiling. 

Once the kettle whistles, Percy drops three bags of Earl Grey into the boiling water. While it steeps, he goes to the cupboard over the sink and fetches two mugs. 

There is a loud cracking sound behind him. Though he'd been half-expecting it, he starts, then takes in a calming breath. Then, composed, he goes to the back door, pushing it open. In an attempt to look cool, he crosses his arms and leans against the door frame. 

"Good evening." Despite his best efforts, he can't help the smile that's trying to twitch across his face.

Oliver brushes himself off, and the grin on his face when he takes in Percy is huge and beaming. His eyes rake over the other man's form eagerly, and although he knows the attention is nothing but positive, Percy still feels an instinct to cover himself from it.

"Nice," Oliver says. "I like your outfit."

Percy glances down at it. It's leagues more casual than what he usually wears - a long-sleeved t-shirt with a Gryffindor lion rampant and jeans (that may be just a bit tighter than usual). "This?"

"Yeah, it looks way easier to take off." Oliver clatters up the wooden back stairs and closes the distance between them. There's not even a moment of hesitation before their mouths meet. Oliver presses Percy against the doorframe, fingers curling into his thick hair. Percy wraps an arm around the Quidditcher's waist, holding him there tightly. 

Oliver pulls back, barely any space between them. "Your parents are already gone?"

"I'm glad you thought to ask that _now_ ," Percy says, dry. "But yes, they're gone all evening."

"Good." He dives back in, tongue pressing against Percy's lips for entrance, and the redhead permits him in gladly. Although they try to make time to see each other at least once a week, they rarely have this kind of time, and, as they both still live at home, certainly not alone. It's a golden opportunity.

This time, Percy breaks the kiss. 

"The tea!" he realizes.

"What?" Oliver says.

Percy squirms out of Oliver's arms and runs to the tea kettle, pulling the lid off and taking a cautious sniff. 

"You made tea?" Oliver asks, grinning.

Percy pinks slightly. "I didn't want you to think I _just_ asked you over to ravish you. We still live in a society. There are rules." He pulls the tea bags out. "I don't think it oversteeped."

Oliver laughs. "Ravish me? Are we in one of Gemma's romance novels?"

"I'm not a viking, so I very much doubt it." Percy pours the tea into the two mugs and offers one to Oliver. Oliver crosses his arms and shakes his head. Percy stares at him in confusion for a moment, then sighs and sets the Chudley Cannons mug down and gives him the mug from Egypt.

"I need to get you a Puddlemere mug," Oliver says. "That," he nods to the offensively orange mug, "is an affront."

"Take it up with Ron," Percy says. He drops in some sugar and takes a sip. It's a little oversteeped, but that's a small price to pay. 

Oliver toes off his sneakers, lining them up by the back door, and takes a seat at the table. Percy leans over slightly, peering at the other man's feet.

"Are those Puddlemere socks?" 

They are, of course; it's a stupid question. Dark blue with a gold bulrush pattern? They're not exactly for the Tutshill Tornados.

"Yeah, my mum got them for me for my birthday." Oliver wiggles his toes in the socks. "Like them?"

"They're socks," Percy replies. "Sugar?"

There's conversation as they drink their tea - Oliver's hours in practice and the overtime Percy keeps putting in, the upcoming event at Hogwarts, their plans for Halloween.

"That was pretty good," Oliver says, setting his mug down. "It didn't taste oversteeped." He looks at Percy in time to catch the other man looking at his chair contemplatively. He raises his eyebrows. 

"Perce?"

"Mm?"

"Any reason you're studying my chair like it'll give you an OWL?"

Percy looks back at him, and Oliver is surprised - and pleased - to see the wicked gleam in those blue eyes. 

"I was wondering," he says, casual, standing, "how much weight it would hold."

Oliver starts to ask what that has to do with anything, but before he can speak, he gets his answer. Percy closes the distance between them and easily straddles Oliver's lap, lean thighs bracketing the other man's waist.

"This much, I guess," Oliver breathes, then arches up to kiss Percy again. He slides his hands up under that t-shirt, relishing the warmth of Percy's skin. The redhead sighs into Oliver's mouth and presses closer, squirming a little at the brief tickle against his sides. Oliver smirks and nips at Percy's lower lip, then again, a little harder. He runs his tongue over the attacked area soothingly, but Percy catches his tongue between his lips and pulls it into his mouth, sucking on it. Oliver groans softly, hands still working Percy's shirt up until it catches. Percy leans back just enough to pull off the henley and toss it onto the table. A part of him howls that he's not folding it, but that part is very effectively shut down by more kissing. 

"Nice," Oliver says against Percy's mouth. The redhead arches against Oliver's calloused fingers as they run along his bare skin. It tickles a little, but the tiny discomfort is easy to ignore. Oliver's hand dips down into the back of Percy's jeans, stopping just above the swell of his ass. There's not a lot of room to maneuver, but he rubs his hand in small circles there. The motion of his hand seems to encourage Percy's hips forward, grinding them against Oliver's, and Percy is immensely pleased to feel that the kissing and touching has affected him, too. He would never imagine that he, Percy, could have that effect on Oliver Wood, but the proof is throbbing and hot between them. Oliver groans at the friction, moving himself against Percy. 

For the moment, Percy is more than happy to kiss, and grind, and hear Oliver moan. But after a little bit, his hands sneak under Oliver's hoodie, and he starts working it up - only to discover the thin fabric of a t-shirt underneath.

"And you fuss at me for wearing too many layers," he grouses, shifting his hands under the t-shirt, too.

"At least it's not twenty tiny buttons," Oliver points out, a bit breathless. "Or cufflinks. I hate your cufflinks."

"My cufflinks are a necessary part of my outfit," Percy retorts. 

"I don't think that - " he cuts off briefly as Percy peels off his shirt and hoodie, dropping them onto the table as well - "that you're going to be sacked if you don't wear cufflinks."

"Dress for the job you want," Percy replies, leaning down to press his mouth against Oliver's neck. "And Minister Fudge- " a kiss to the pulse point just below his chin - "wears-" a little lower now - "cufflinks." He caps the statement off with a sharp nip against the juncture of shoulder and neck. 

"That's not something I want to think about right now, Perce." Oliver groans as Percy drags his tongue against the spot he bit, and his hands tighten on Percy's hips. The redhead grinds against Oliver in response, a shudder running down his spine as he hits a particular sweet spot. He thrusts again, once, twice, and has to press his face into Oliver's shoulder to muffle what is definitely not a whimper. He could, he thinks, just stay right here, finish himself off against Oliver, and part of him wants to, greedy to grab onto that high of orgasm as soon as possible.

But good things come to those who wait, and better things come to those who are willing to work for them.

"Let's go upstairs," he gasps, pulling back, breathing a little shakily. He takes in Oliver, flushed, eyes dark with want, hands digging into Percy's hips so tightly it hurts a little, even through his jeans. "Merlin's beard, I want you."

Despite his earlier suggestion, he dives down to kiss Oliver again, tongue seeking entrance, hips working against the other man's. Oliver moans into the kiss, using his grip on the redhead to move him where he needs him. 

Merlin, he could _just_ , right here -

No, no, not here, not in his parents' kitchen. He wants Oliver properly, spread out on his bed, naked and hot and all for him. 

"Didn't you say something about going upstairs?" Oliver asks. He grins at the combination of irritation and desire on his boyfriend's face, and the redhead slides off his lap, reaching out a hand.

"Come on, before I change my mind."

Oliver takes the proffered hand and gets to his feet. He uses his grip on Percy's hand to pull him close, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"You couldn't kick me out even if you wanted to."

"Don't tempt me," Percy says, but his voice betrays his want. 

With an effort, he pulls away and grabs his shirt. "Get your shirt, let's go."

Oliver follows his lead and goes to the second bedroom on the first landing, glancing at the door to the other bedroom. Although he knows the twins are at Hogwarts, it still feels wrong to not hear explosions from behind it.

He goes into Percy's room and tosses his hoodie and t-shirt onto the floor, while the redhead pushes the door closed and points his wand at it, making a few gestures and murmuring the incantations under his breath. 

"What are you doing?"

"Locking charm," Percy replies, "and a couple of Silencing spells."

"Silencing spells, eh?"

Percy sets his wand down on the desk by the door. "My parents could be directly outside in the hall while I sucked you off right there and they'd never know."

Oliver shivers. "You're hot as hell when you talk dirty, you know that?" He closes the distance between them with a few strides and pushes the other man against the door with a soft thud. 

Percy's lips curl upward in a brief smirk before Oliver leans in to kiss his way past it, pressing Percy against the door, skin against skin. Percy's long, nimble fingers slide down and deftly undo the button and zip on Oliver's jeans, pressing a hand inside to find what he's looking for. Oliver moans into the kiss, loud, his hips jerking forward as Percy slides his hand along his erection. The angle is awkward but the sensation is worth it. A few more strokes, and Percy shifts forward, pressing Oliver back towards his bed. Luckily, he keeps his room neat, so there's little chance of encountering any obstacles on the way. (It is not _the_ reason he keeps his room neat, but it helps.)

Oliver's knees hit the bed and he sits down on the edge.

Percy steps back, and Oliver almost protests. Then those fingers go to the button on his own jeans, and Oliver decides to keep his mouth shut.

The button comes apart with a swift flick of his fingers, and the zipper follows. Percy hooks his thumbs into the sides of his trousers and pushes them, and his boxers, off in one fluid movement. Oliver licks his lips.

"Nice," he says, a little breathless.

"Your turn," Percy replies. 

All too eager to comply, Oliver wriggles out of his already-undone jeans and underwear, though there's a bit of a struggle to get his socks off. 

As soon as he's naked, Oliver glances at Percy and feels a jot of lust at the look on the redhead's face. His blue eyes are locked on Oliver and his lips are parted, breathing a little heavier than usual.

"Well?" Oliver says. 

Without another word, Percy crawls onto the bed, taking a moment to set his glasses on the nightstand, and slides up against Oliver, pulling him so they're lying side-by-side, facing each other. The hot sharp shock of skin against skin is overwhelmingly good, and Oliver has to press his mouth to the other man's to muffle any embarrassing sounds he might make. Percy reaches between them and wraps his hand around Oliver's cock, starting a steady, firm rhythm. There's no disguising the moan that time, nor the thrust of his hips against Percy's hand. Wanting to return the favor, Oliver slides his own hand down, carefully maneuvering it around Percy's arm, and takes hold of the redhead's erection in turn. It's difficult to maintain a regular rhythm - he's a bit distracted - but he tries to imitate what Percy is doing to him. Awkward and stuttering as it is, it seems to be working. Percy gasps softly into the kiss, sharp inhales almost like sobs. His hips move in concert with Oliver's hand, and he presses still further forward, their mouths meeting with growing ferocity. Percy hooks one long leg over Oliver's hip, pulling in tighter. 

Oliver breaks the kiss, and Percy lets out an undeniable whimper, trying to find the other man's mouth again.

"I want to finish inside of you," Oliver says, voice ragged. "Perce, let me -"

Percy nods, rapid, not even letting Oliver finish. "Yes, God, whatever you want." He pulls away and Oliver tries not to whine at the loss of contact. "Where's your wand?"

"Jeans," Oliver says, and Percy leans over the bed to dig the other man's wand out of his trousers. He hands it to Oliver and shifts on the bed, closing his eyes in preparation. 

Oliver taps the wand against Percy's lower back. " _Lubricio_."

Percy visibly starts as a jolt runs up his spine, the spell preparing and stretching him in seconds. 

"Merlin's beard, I'll never get used to that," he says, breathless.

Oliver grins, tossing his wand back onto his clothes with a soft thump. 

"Challenge accepted."

Percy laughs despite himself. "Get on your back."

Oliver does so, stroking himself as he lies back, watching Percy eagerly. The redhead looks at the sight before him - Oliver Wood, naked and hard, on his bed - and licks his lips. Now that's a view he could get used to.

He moves over Oliver, straddling him once more, and takes hold of the other man's erection, lowering himself onto it. Even with the spell in place, there's still a burn and stretch as Oliver pushes into him. He seats himself fully onto Oliver, letting out a soft huff of pleasure as he does.

"You feel so damn good," Oliver says, gazing up at the redhead. 

"Takes one to know one." It's entirely possible that, thanks to the complete sensory overload Percy's brain is trying to process, that what he said did not actually make sense. It's equally likely he doesn't care. He shifts on Oliver's cock, then begins moving up and down on it, slowly at first, then a little more quickly. Oliver moans loudly, reaching up to take hold of Percy's hips, grabbing them tightly. He moves in concert with the other man, and Percy clenches around him.

"Harder," Percy gasps, and it takes Oliver a moment to fight through the haze of lust.

"Huh?"

"Your hands," Percy says, and taps Oliver's fingers as though he needs a reminder of where his hands are. "Harder."

Oliver hesitates. "Perce -"

"Oliver." Percy grinds himself, slow, hard, clenching himself impossibly tightly around him. "Do it."

Oliver's hands tighten on instinct, and then he grips Percy harder, though he knows it must be hurting the redhead. 

Percy lets out a gasp of satisfaction, and he moves faster, head tipping back. Oliver groans, speeding up as well. 

"God, you feel good," he groans. 

Percy rests one hand on Oliver's chest for balance and takes hold of his own cock with the other, starting to jerk himself off. 

Oliver can tell the moment Percy's climax starts to hit. He inhales sharply, and his face twists like he's been punched in the stomach. His back arches, head thrown back, and he lets out a soft, keening wail, coming in hot stripes over his hand and Oliver's chest.

"Goddamn," Oliver hisses. "God _damn_ -"

Percy is unbelievably tight around him as his orgasm rocks him, and Oliver thrusts up into that tight heat as fast as he can. It isn't too long after Percy starts to sag that Oliver thrusts up one final time, lets out a great shout, and spills inside the other man.

He falls back onto the bed, breathless, and grins up at Percy, loopy and indisputably happy.

Percy grins back, weak, and Oliver drinks it in. There are so few occasions where he can see his boyfriend like this - no tie, no inhibitions, not even his glasses - that he wants to enjoy every minute of it. 

"How're you feeling?"

"Less sore than I will be in the morning." Oliver peels his hands from Percy's hips, taking in the arcing red marks left in the pale skin, ones that will likely bruise - unmistakably fingers.

"You liked that?" he asks, touching one of the marks with a gentle brush of his finger.

"Yes." He goes a bit pink. "I - I hardly want you to cut something off or anything like that, but if I get a bit, that is, _banged up_ in the proceedings, that's hardly the worst thing in the world."

Oliver grins. He knows he looks like a lovesick fool, but he can't fight the truth. "Is it weird that I think that's hot?"

"I'd be a little upset if you didn't." With a wince, Percy lifts himself off of Oliver. He turns to get off the bed, but Oliver catches his hand.

"Come here."

"I want to clean up," Percy protests, half-hearted. "It'll be itchy if we don't."

"That's a problem for later. Come here."

With a great sigh, Percy allows himself to be pulled down onto the bed, but he's definitely the one that tangles himself up with Oliver, pulling the bedclothes over them.

 

Oliver wakes with a start sometime later when Percy suddenly sits straight up.

"Perce?" he asks, voice rough with sleep. His answer is a hand over his mouth and a hissed "shh!"

"Percy?" calls another voice. "Are you still up?"

"My parents," Percy whispers. "Shit!"

"You're hot when you swear," Oliver says indistinctly behind Percy's hand.

"Shut up!"

"He's probably asleep, Molly," Arthur says from outside. "Come on, it's late."

"I thought I heard something," says Molly, but a second later they hear footsteps and the stairs creaking.

"I can't believe we fell asleep!" Percy whispers. He turns to Oliver. "You have to go."

"Are you sure?" Oliver asks, eyeing the other man. "I could -"

Although he looks like it's the last thing he wants to do, Percy cracks a smile. "I'm sure you could, but _not now_. Get dressed."

They don't dare turn on the lights, so they collect their clothes by the light of Percy's wand.

"I can't find my other sock," Oliver hisses.

"Forget your sock," Percy whispers. "I'll find it later."

"You better."

They sneak down the stairs and to the kitchen, where Oliver's sneakers are still lined up next to the door. Percy stops stock-still.

"Do you think they saw those?" 

"They probably thought they were yours."

"I don't wear _athletic shoes_!"

"The twins, then. Whatever. It's fine." Oliver pulls the shoes back on, then catches the redhead's chin and kisses him soundly. "Move in with me, Perce."

"What?" In the moonlight, Percy's eyes are luminous.

"Move in with me. I'm sick of sneaking around." 

Percy hesitates. 

"Think about it." Oliver smiles, trying to hide his hurt. "Offer's open." 

They kiss one more time, a silent goodbye, and Oliver jogs into the backyard before disappearing with a _crack_.

 

The next morning, Percy comes downstairs, dressed and hair gelled, every inch the perfect son and employee. 

“Good morning, Mother, Father,” he says, nodding to each of them in turn as he goes to pour himself a cup of coffee. His hips twinge a little with each step, but he does his best to ignore it.

“Morning, Percy,” says Molly, as Arthur rustles his newspaper. “I wish you’d told me Oliver was coming over, dear; I would have been happy for him to join us at dinner.”

Percy nearly drops his mug, turning quickly. “Sorry?”

“When we got home last night, I noticed his shoes by the back door.” Molly smiles, and Percy takes a too-big swallow of coffee. It’s too hot to swallow, so he has to stand there for a moment, grimacing, until he can force it down.

“Oh, uh -”

“Next time, be sure to ask him to dinner, too,” Molly continues. “He’s such a nice boy.”

“I certainly will, Mother.” Percy takes another sip of coffee, and thinks that maybe he'll take Oliver up on that offer after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a Christmas gift for my fellow Potterotics, after people expressed interest in learning how the Puddlemere sock ended up at the Burrow. Merry Christmas!


End file.
